


Open Eyes

by N16



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, And honestly there's a reason he eventually becomes a legendary king, Angry Merlin (Merlin), Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur has a brain, Bromance, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, I updated the tags, Male Friendship, Protective Arthur, Supportive Arthur, Whump-ish, and he loves his people, and he wants to do the right thing, because tagging is hard, even if he's dumb and oblivious sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N16/pseuds/N16
Summary: After Merlin experiences abuse at the hands of a visiting lord, Arthur decides his manservant needs to learn how to defend himself. But Merlin is unimpressed with Arthur's solution, and Arthur is forced to confront some unpleasant truths about what happens right under his nose. How can he protect a kingdom when he can't even protect those inside his castle? One-shot.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 120
Kudos: 573





	Open Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: References to unwanted sexual advances (deliberately kept very brief and vague). 
> 
> This story is not in my wheelhouse. It's not even in the same town as my wheelhouse. I was thinking about the "Gwaine" and "Valiant" episodes and about what kind of king I think Arthur is, and somehow...this happened. I've tried to rewrite it to make it more "like me" - add some banter, turn the sexual advances into mild physical abuse, basically try to make the whole thing a little less dark. I hated the result. So I'm sticking with the original, even though I have serious doubts about posting this. It honestly doesn't even feel like mine. But...hopefully it's okay. It's good to branch out and try new things, right?
> 
> That being said, if you've read my other stories, know that this one is very different in tone and in content.
> 
> I did about eight seconds of research into the legal system of the time before deciding that if the Merlin creators didn't care about historical accuracy, I didn't either. All references to laws and such come from the aforementioned episodes or from my imagination.
> 
> Okay...*deep breath*...enough of that. Here's the story.

" _Merlin!_ "

Arthur didn't want to think. He wanted to act, to give into his instincts, to _fight_. That's what he was best at anyway.

But he couldn't. Not against Lord Lyndon. Some small part of his brain remembered that. And another part of his brain said maybe he misunderstood anyway, maybe he was overreacting…

"Where the hell have you been?" Arthur yelled, funneling his rage into the performance. He couldn't meet Merlin's eyes, though. He'd seen them for just a moment, when he'd turned the corner. Seen the fear and the anger and the hopelessness. Instead, he focused his gaze on the bridge of his nose. "Just because we have guests doesn't mean you get to spend your time socializing!"

Lord Lyndon stepped back quickly, letting his hands drop from where they had been planted against the wall on either side of Merlin.

"Your majesty," he said with a quick bow. "I apologize for keeping him. We were just getting to know each other a little better. After all, Merlin has served me so well since my arrival."

Arthur clamped a firm hand on Merlin's shoulder, pulling him away from the other man. "That's no excuse," he said. "He knows his duties. He was supposed to be in my chambers ten minutes ago."

Merlin didn't defend himself against the lie, and Arthur could feel him trembling under his hand. Or was that Arthur's hand shaking? With a quick nod to Lord Lyndon, he turned away.

"Perhaps I'll see you later, Merlin," the lord called after them, and Arthur's grasp tightened instinctively on Merlin's shoulder as he heard his servant take a shuddering breath at the words.

He kept a firm grip as they walked briskly back to Arthur's chambers. To an outsider, it probably looked like Merlin was in trouble; Arthur let the façade down once Lyndon couldn't see him, and knew his rage must be evident on his face. Merlin kept his gaze on the floor, face pale and eyes wide.

When they finally reached Arthur's quarters, he all but shoved Merlin into the room, closing the door behind them. He opened his mouth to ask if he was all right, but he couldn't make himself say the words. Because Merlin was clearly _not_ all right.

And then Merlin made a beeline to the chamber pot near Arthur's bed, barely hitting his knees before his stomach emptied into it.

_Come on, look at me._

Arthur had felt a flash of concern when he'd heard the strange tone in Lyndon's voice, both soft and aggressive. Something about it had made the hair on Arthur's neck rise.

And then he'd heard the reply. Firm and fearful.

_Please don't. I told you before, I don't want—_

And then Arthur had turned the corner down that rarely-used corridor. And _seen_.

He knelt next to Merlin, reaching a hand out, then pulling it back quickly when Merlin flinched. Sensing his servant wanted his space, he pulled the chair out from behind his desk and took a seat, waiting until he was done.

Eventually Merlin finished, sitting back on his heels and pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead. His whole body trembled as he stared at the wall.

"What did he do?" Arthur asked, his voice quiet in his effort to sound calm.

"I don't want to talk about it," Merlin answered immediately, and Arthur's hands clenched into fists. "You can't do anything, Arthur. You can't afford to alienate him."

"I'm the king. I can do anything I want," Arthur snapped, then immediately regretted it when Merlin cringed at his harsh tone.

"Lyndon supplies more knights than any other lord in Camelot," Merlin reminded him, his voice tired and flat. "I'm there for those council meetings too. I know war is imminent with Lot. You can't afford a fight with Lyndon right now."

"You cannot expect me to just pretend nothing happened," Arthur asked incredulously.

"Yes, I can. You cannot risk going into a war underequipped just to avenge a wrong done to a servant. I would not have innocent men die on the battlefield because your army is diminished on account of me. You need Lyndon's men."

He did need them. Arthur knew that. Wasn't that why he'd put on that show for Lyndon in the first place, pretending to yell at Merlin instead of punching the man and having him arrested? But watching Merlin shake on the floor like this…

_I told you before, I don't want—_

What had happened before?

"Merlin," he asked, "I won't ask for details, but I have to ask – did he…I mean, has he…" he trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question, but to his relief, Merlin shook his head.

"No, Arthur. Not that." He fell back so that he was sitting instead of kneeling. "He has tried a couple of times to get me into his chambers, and one time…" he trailed off and he took a deep breath. "But I've always found a way to get away."

Arthur swore under his breath, even as he thought to himself _Thank the gods_. He honestly didn't know what he would have done if Merlin had said yes.

Arthur wasn't used to feeling powerless, especially over something like punishing a lord, but Merlin had a point. The impending war with Lot complicated things.

"Is Gaius back yet?" Arthur knew the physician had traveled to one of the outlying villages to treat an outbreak of an illness, which meant Merlin had been staying alone.

"Not for another three days, if all goes well." Every word Merlin spoke came out emotionless, as though he were blindly reciting words he had memorized.

"Lyndon leaves tomorrow." Arthur drummed his fingers as he thought it through. "You can stay in the servant's antechamber tonight, if you'd like."

Merlin shook his head. "You don't have to—"

"I won't order you," Arthur interrupted, "but I would feel better if you weren't by yourself. And it would mean that someone would know if you were…detained at the end of the day."

Merlin swallowed and nodded. "All right." He scrubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes and stood. "I should clear the lunch dishes."

"Don't worry about it," Arthur said firmly. "I'll get another servant to do that. I have a whole pile of clothes that need mending, and this room is a mess."

Merlin nodded, and Arthur wished he could tell whether he was relieved at the excuse to hide out for the afternoon. But he kept his eyes on the floor as he went to retrieve the pile of clothes and a needle and thread.

Arthur sighed and stood; he had training, and Merlin clearly wanted to be alone. But before he reached the door, he turned back around.

"Merlin?"

The servant raised his head just slightly to show he'd heard.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin just shook his head. "Arthur…"

"I would have protected you."

"I know," Merlin agreed heavily, and Arthur sighed.

"You didn't want to make trouble between me and Lyndon. I get that. But Merlin…I would have found a way."

Merlin nodded, and Arthur wished the man would just _look at him_. But Merlin kept his eyes down.

"If there's ever a next time – and I pray there isn't – you _will_ tell me."

Merlin's hands paused for a moment, then he nodded again. "Of course, my lord."

Arthur's stomach sank at the title. He wanted Merlin to trust him, not merely obey him. Assuming he _did_ obey him. Arthur was well aware that Merlin's assurance might be a straight lie.

"You have your key, right?" he asked as he opened the door, and Merlin nodded again without looking up.

Arthur closed the door and locked it behind him.

* * *

Lyndon was there.

Arthur had hoped he would be.

For a brief moment, he considered telling Gwaine what had happened, and then pairing the two men for sparring. Blunt sword or not, he was certain Gwaine would find a way to remove a certain appendage and permanently fix the problem.

But Arthur couldn't do that. It wasn't his to tell, for one thing, and secondly, Gwaine would not be content with merely maiming the man. If he put the two of them against each other, there was every chance Lyndon wouldn't live to see dinner.

Instead, Arthur took Percival aside.

"It looks like Lord Lyndon has decided to join training today," he said casually, and Percival snorted.

"He's been running his mouth," he muttered quietly to Arthur. "Talking about how the knights here can't compare with his own knights, and how it's because of his own superior skill as their trainer.

Arthur couldn't resist the grim smile that crossed his face.

"Has he now?" he mused. "I'm going to pair him with you today, Percival." Then he lowered his voice so that Percival had to lean down to hear. "I want you to make him hurt."

Percival blinked in alarm. "My lord?"

"Something happened. I can't tell you what. But from a political standpoint, my hands are tied. I cannot bring him to justice or make him pay for what he's done by charging him with a crime. But I want him to pay. And if you knew what had happened, you'd want him to pay too. Trust me on this."

Percival studied Arthur's face for a minute, and the king could see the conflict in his eyes.

This wasn't part of the Knight's Code. This wasn't honorable.

But whatever Percival saw, it must have been enough, because he gave Arthur a short nod.

And he delivered on his word.

* * *

"Is it safe to assume that I'm not fetching your dinner tonight?" Merlin asked as he straightened the already-straight bedspread.

Truthfully, Arthur's quarters hadn't looked this clean since that time Merlin disappeared for a few days and George replaced him. The entire room was immaculate. Arthur supposed that's what happened when a bored servant was stuck in the room for hours.

"It's up to you, Merlin," he said, deliberately not looking up from the document he was working on at his desk. All afternoon, it had seemed Merlin was doing his best to pretend things were as normal as possible, apart from avoiding eye contact. And if that's what he wanted, then Arthur could try to do that too. "But I would rather you didn't."

"I'd rather I didn't either, but I hate sitting around and just thinking. And feeling useless." He added the second part as an afterthought, and Arthur had a good guess what kinds of thoughts Merlin was trying to avoid.

"You want to be useful? Read this and tell me your thoughts," Arthur said, holding a piece of parchment out to him. Merlin took it curiously, and Arthur's temper flared as he noticed a fresh bruise around Merlin's wrist that he was sure hadn't been there the day before. He pushed the fury back down, and when Merlin looked up from the parchment and raised his eyebrows, he didn't seem to notice anything amiss in Arthur's expression.

"This isn't a speech."

"Well spotted."

The edges of Merlin's mouth tipped up slightly at the teasing, and Arthur felt the tightness in his chest ease just a little.

"I'm just a servant. What do I know about tax legislation?" he asked skeptically.

"I've long suspected you have a brain rusting away up there, and you just enjoy hiding it from everyone. If war is coming, we'll have to raise taxes, and I'd like to hear the perspective of someone who isn't a lord."

Merlin looked up, meeting Arthur's eyes for the first time since the episode in the corridor. "Would you really?"

"Would I really what?" Arthur asked, moving on to the next document on the pile.

"Would you really like to know what mere commoners think about your tax plan?"

Arthur blinked in surprise at the question. "As king, I'm responsible for all of the people of Camelot, not just the lords. Wars demand resources, but it's not much of a victory if my people starve as a result."

Merlin smiled, an actual _smile_ , however small it might be. "All right, then. I'll take a look."

* * *

Arthur woke in the middle of the night, thinking he heard someone at his door.

He didn't. He even poked his head out to check, much to the befuddlement of the guards who always manned his door at night. It was just the paranoia of knowing that Merlin slept in the antechamber.

He climbed back into bed, but sleep didn't return. He still felt anxious and angry from the events of the day before, even knowing Lyndon had been hurt – two broken ribs, Arthur had been gratified to learn from the physician from the lower town who had treated him – and knowing he would be leaving in a matter of hours. The horror was all but over.

But it had happened. He didn't know what exactly, or how many times, but Merlin had had more than one encounter with the man. And when Arthur had turned that corner and _seen_ – Merlin had just been standing there. Back against the wall, face turned away, eyes desperate with fear and anger.

Just standing.

Arthur couldn't change what had happened. But he could sure as hell make sure it didn't happen again.

Once the horizon showed the first signs of turning light, he crossed the room and banged on the door of the antechamber.

"Come on, Merlin! Time to get up."

A moment later his servant pulled the door open, hair going all directions and eyes confused.

"I wouldn't have stayed here if I'd known it meant waking up at dawn," he protested groggily.

"I would have woken you up even if you'd been at Gaius's," Arthur said dismissively. "We have something we need to do this morning. Be ready to go in five minutes."

Merlin kept up a steady stream of grumbling for the next several minutes as he got himself ready and then helped Arthur dress, but most of it was so sleepy and slurred that Arthur couldn't even understand the words. Something about sleep and prats and unappreciated servants, and he was pretty sure he heard "clotpole" in there somewhere.

It wasn't until they set out that Merlin finally lapsed into a silence broken only by frequent yawns. He followed Arthur unquestioningly, but frowned in confusion when they reached the armory.

"Arthur, I swear, if you woke me at the crack of dawn to polish your armor…" he began, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"No, idiot. We're getting you a sword."

Merlin frowned. "A sword?"

Arthur looked through until he found one he thought would do. It was a good length for Merlin, and well-balanced. Nothing fancy, but it was crafted by the royal blacksmith and it was quality work.

"Here," he said, handing it hilt-first to his servant.

"What's this for?" Merlin asked, his face unreadable in the shadows of the room.

"It's for fighting," Arthur said blithely. "Come on."

Merlin seemed to move slowly as he followed Arthur onto the training grounds just as the sun started to peak above the trees. Apparently sleepiness made him dawdle even more than normal. But when they finally reached the open grass, Arthur turned to find Merlin didn't look sleepy at all. His face wore some strange combination of wariness and defensiveness and bitterness, all mixed with something else he couldn't quite pinpoint.

"What are we doing here, Arthur?"

Arthur took a deep breath. "We're teaching you to fight. I failed to protect you this week. I know that. But you won't always have me or a knight around to watch out for you, Merlin. You need to be able to defend yourself."

"Defend myself," Merlin repeated flatly.

"Yes, defend yourself. The sword is yours to keep. Although perhaps we should get you a dagger too…a sword might stand out a bit when you're walking around the castle, now that I think about it. I'll teach you some basic steps with a sword today, and then tomorrow I can show you some moves with a dagger."

Merlin looked down at the sword in his hand, then looked away, letting out a sour laugh.

"You're actually serious."

Arthur frowned, baffled by Merlin's tone. "Don't you want to know how to defend yourself?"

"I know the basics of how to use a sword," his servant answered coldly. "I've been watching or involved in the knights' training exercises several times a week for years. I've fought, with and without a sword, against bandits and mercenaries and even soldiers from neighboring kingdoms. I'm not sure what you expect to teach me in one morning that I don't already know."

Arthur stared in confusion. "I didn't think of that. But you're right. Of course you have." He paused, trying to make sense of the whole thing. "But then…why?"

"Why what?" Merlin asked darkly.

Arthur swallowed, not wanting to finish the question.

"Why didn't you…you know. Defend yourself."

Merlin let out a sharp exhale, as though he'd been hit in the stomach. "Why didn't I _defend myself_?" he repeated, an edge of rage coming into his voice. "Are you serious, Arthur? Do you really not know?"

"I really do not know," Arthur snapped in return, his defenses kicking in automatically at the hostility in Merlin's tone. "Please, enlighten me."

Merlin laughed, a sound completely devoid of humor, and shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was hard in a way he had never used with Arthur.

"I'm a _commoner_ , Arthur. He's a _lord_. My word means nothing in a court of law. If I fought back and injured him, I would be guilty of attacking a noble. Of violating the precious Knight's Code. And as such, I would face the penalty. Banishment or flogging, maybe even execution. No skill with a sword or dagger would protect me from the penalty of the law if I were to _defend myself_."

Arthur blanched. "No," he whispered. "That's not true. There would be a trial. You could…"

"I could explain?" Merlin interrupted, laughing. "And say what? All he'd have to say is that I attacked him, and that would be the end of it. A noble's testimony automatically trumps whatever a mere commoner says. And, gods forbid, if I fought back and _killed_ him, I would undoubtedly be convicted of murder." Merlin paused and stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the king's. "Go ahead, Arthur. Tell me I'm wrong."

A wave of nausea almost overtook Arthur, and he fought to push it back down. Merlin was right. If he fought back…how could Arthur not have seen it?

"Unless someone is actually going to kill me, in which case my life is forfeit regardless, I'm better off taking whatever abuse a noble gives me."

"I didn't know," Arthur whispered, half to himself, and now Merlin took a step back, as though repulsed.

"Of course you knew, Arthur. You didn't think about it, but you knew. You're the king. It's _your_ law. Your law prevented me from defending myself. And your law will prevent me from defending myself next time."

 _Next time_.

Oh gods, he really was going to vomit.

Merlin took another step back, and then, to Arthur's horror, bent in a deep bow.

"Your majesty," he said, fury in his eyes and venom in his voice. He tossed the blade to the ground in front of Arthur, and it bounced and landed on his foot, slicing the leather open. "Keep your fucking sword."

Arthur stood speechless as he watched his servant storm across the grounds in the warm light of the rising sun.

* * *

Lord Lyndon was gone.

The threat was over.

 _This_ threat was over.

Arthur's head throbbed, and the bright sun wasn't helping, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He didn't know if Merlin had shown up for work, because he hadn't gone back to his chambers. Or back inside at all, actually. He'd seen Lyndon off, with a silent wish that his horse would throw him on the way home, and then he'd gone back to the training grounds.

And he'd sat down and tried to think.

A few knights were getting some extra practice in, and Sir Leon was running drills with a handful of squires, but overall, the field was emptier than Arthur typically saw. Everyone darted confused looks at the king from time to time, but no one approached or questioned his presence.

They were learning to fight. Learning to defend themselves. Something Arthur had always taken for granted, and never thought to wonder about for those who didn't wear a red cape.

Merlin was right. He could hold his own in a fight. But Arthur had turned the corner and _he just stood there_. Frozen and scared, because Arthur – _Arthur_ – didn't permit him to defend himself.

"It has been a while since I've seen you wallow like this," a gentle voice said above him, and he looked up to see Gwen standing over him with a concerned smile.

He tried to force a smile in return. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking."

"May I join you?"

He nodded to the spot beside him and she sat down, resting her hand on top of his.

"Are you thinking about the war?"

The war. With Lot. Right. That was an important thing that he needed to be thinking about as king.

"I am now," he muttered, and Gwen winced.

"Sorry," she murmured. She waited, but when he didn't say anything else, she pressed, "If you're not thinking about the war, then what has that line between your brows wrinkling?" She reached out as though to touch it, then looked around, dropping her hand as she remembered they could have an audience.

"Can I ask you something?" Arthur asked, dread pitting in his stomach even as he said the words. Because gods help him, he feared he already knew the answer.

"You can ask me anything, Arthur. You know that."

"Has anyone ever…hurt you? Harmed you. As a servant."

He felt her stiffen beside him, withdrawing her touch to place both hands in her lap. "What do you mean by harmed?"

"I don't know, Guinevere. Anything that would physically hurt you."

She took a deep breath, a sad smile crossing her face as she stared at the grass in front of her. "Nothing that ever did more than leave a bruise or two."

Arthur buried his face in his hand, trying to ignore the rush of despair rising up in him, even though he knew he should be grateful it wasn't worse. "And what did you do?"

"Do?" she asked, perplexed.

"When they hurt you, what did you do?"

She shrugged. "I apologized or kept my mouth shut, depending on what I thought they wanted, and I made my exit as quickly as I could."

"Right."

After a moment of silence, he felt her hand rest on top of his again, and he turned his over to weave their fingers together.

"In those situations, we can tell the steward, you know," she said softly. "He's a good man. He does his best to be discerning about assignments. Like little Betha is scared of her own shadow, so he'd never send her to someone who might be more forceful. And if someone does lose their temper and we tell him, he'll never send that same servant back to that person."

"Who goes in their place?"

She let out a short laugh. "Some people are better than others in those situations. Some of the servants are better at dodging hits, and some are less bothered when a hit lands. Some will even volunteer when someone is particularly awful. To protect the others, you know."

Arthur closed his eyes and asked another question he already knew the answer to.

"Merlin?"

Gwen gave him a knowing look. "What do you think?"

"I think my idiot servant is supposed to wash my clothes, not be a hero." But of course, Merlin didn't know that. From the very first moment they met, when Merlin stepped in to…

Well, to stop Arthur from bullying a servant actually. Not hurting him, not physically abusing him, but still, definitely bullying him.

"I didn't know," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I know that sounds ridiculous, but I swear, I just never saw it."

Gwen pulled away again, not just her hand, but her entire body, her tone flat when she replied.

"Of course you knew, Arthur. Can you really say you've never seen a noble strike a servant?"

He exhaled sharply, trying to control his temper as she echoed Merlin's words. He didn't want Gwen to think his anger was aimed at her.

"Of course I have," he admitted. "I just…"

"You thought Merlin and I were exempt because we have your favor?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically cool.

Yes.

He didn't think of Merlin and Gwen as just servants. They were people. People he cared about and would defend, and would never want to see harmed.

And the others…the others were just servants.

Across the way, Sir Rylan was packing up for the day. And right there, as Arthur watched, his servant tripped, falling down and dropping the armful of weapons he'd been carrying, almost causing the knight to stumble as well. The knight yelled, and delivered a swift kick to the man's leg as he lay sprawled on the ground. Unthinkingly, Arthur was sure. Just an automatic response.

A glance sideways told him Gwen had seen it as well.

"We're just commoners, Arthur," she said quietly. "That's how it is."

He shook his head. "How can I be trusted to keep a kingdom safe when I can't even keep the people in my own castle safe?"

"You can't change people," she said gently. "King or not, you're one man."

Arthur felt wetness in his eyes, so he waited to reply until he was sure he had it under control. Then he asked another question, one he couldn't bear to think about but had to know the answer to.

"Has anyone ever laid hands on you, Guinevere? Been overly familiar?"

Gwen shook her head, although her words didn't entirely match the action. "A little bit of familiarity here and there, but nothing aggressive. There was only one incident that actually frightened me, back when I first started. I didn't know Morgana well enough yet to tell her, but I…" she trailed off, and Arthur followed her gaze to where Sir Leon worked with the squires.

"Leon?" he asked in shock, and Gwen's eyes widened.

"What? No! Of course not! But I grew up with Leon, since my mother was a maid for his family. He was older than me, of course, and I wouldn't say he was like an older brother – we weren't that close. But I knew him and I trusted him. And I didn't know who else to tell."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "He protected you." That made far more sense than Leon abusing his station.

"I don't know exactly how, but he handled it. The man kept his distance after that."

The headache was becoming unbearable, but Arthur didn't want to go to Gaius's chambers for a potion and risk running into Merlin.

He didn't want to return to his quarters for the same reason, although it was well after midday now, and he knew he should eat something. He'd skipped breakfast in his eagerness to teach Merlin to fight.

"Come on," Gwen said gently, standing and reaching down to help him up. "I know you have plenty to do, and I think it would be wise to take your mind off this for a bit."

He nodded. "You're probably right. Promise me something, though." He waited until he had her attention, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "If anyone ever mistreats you in any way – if they so much as make you uncomfortable – tell me? Please?"

She squeezed his hand and nodded. "I promise."

It was a small relief, but at least it was something.

* * *

When Arthur returned to his chambers, a lunch tray sat on the table, but he saw no other indication that his servant had shown up for work. His gut told him that someone else had probably brought the tray, and that hunch was confirmed when dinner came. Another servant brought the meal and then attended to him that night to prepare for bed, mentioning in passing that Merlin had sent him in his stead.

Arthur felt strangely guilty about that. Merlin was angry – justifiably so, as it turned out – and he could have just bailed for the day. Arthur wouldn't have blamed him. But instead, he still made sure Arthur was taken care of.

It made Arthur want to send the servant away so he'd have to fend for himself. The way Merlin should have left him to do. Instead, he choked down half of the fine meal that tasted like leather, and later allowed the obsequious young man to dress him for bed.

He wondered, lying in bed, if Merlin had gone through the steward when he sent the replacement. Was Arthur considered a difficult master? Did braver servants volunteer to step in when Merlin was absent so the more timid ones would be spared?

Arthur chased these thoughts all night, and had hardly fallen asleep when sunlight hit his face.

"Up," Merlin's voice ordered from the direction of the window. Not "rise and shine" or any other cutesy phrase. No early morning rambling that made Arthur long for silence. Just one word.

"You're here," Arthur realized, grogginess allowing his mouth to speak more freely than it might have otherwise.

"It's my job, isn't it?" Merlin answered, but as Arthur forced himself out of bed, he noticed his servant didn't sound angry. He just sounded worn down. When Merlin walked back from the wardrobe, clothes in hand, Arthur saw the dark bags under his eyes.

Arthur had had such a terrible day the day before that he'd almost forgotten what a hellish week Merlin had already had before that.

"I wasn't sure you'd show," Arthur admitted. "I'm glad you did."

Merlin met his eyes briefly before helping pull the tunic on. "I know court etiquette and all that says I should apologize for what I said yesterday, but I'm not going to."

Gods, the man looked tired. Arthur could tell he was prepared for a fight, but didn't want one. And that was fine. Arthur didn't want one either.

"Good," he said, and he couldn't deny he felt a flash of satisfaction at the surprise and relief in Merlin's eyes. "You were right to call me out. Throwing the sword at me probably wasn't the best idea – my boot needs mending, by the way – but what you said…you were right, Merlin. I should have known. I have no excuse. And I'm sorry."

Merlin nodded, but Arthur could tell his apology wasn't wholly accepted. After all, it was only words. And words wouldn't protect him the next time Lord Lyndon, or a man like him, was in town.

Merlin had picked out a particularly scratchy shirt for him, he noticed as he sat down to breakfast. And he'd brought bacon instead of sausages, corn rolls instead of sweet rolls, a large helping of cantaloupe, and no eggs. In short, a perfectly nice breakfast composed entirely of foods Arthur didn't care for. Nothing he could complain about without seeming petty, but a subtle way of starting his day off poorly.

Honestly, Arthur was kind of impressed at the tactic.

Fortunately, the small punishments seemed to stop there. Merlin must have accepted his apology enough for that, at least. He behaved almost normally that morning, although he was a good deal quieter than usual. Arthur wasn't sure if that was because he was tired, because he was upset with Arthur, or because he was still disturbed by the events with Lyndon. Or perhaps all of the above.

He disappeared for a few hours to work on his chores, and when he returned, he found Arthur looking out the window.

"Arthur?" the king heard him call out from the doorway. "Are you all right?"

Arthur wondered vaguely what his face looked like to warrant that level of concern, because Merlin's footsteps approached quickly.

"What's wrong?" Merlin demanded. And then he looked past Arthur to the courtyard below. Arthur felt rather than saw the way Merlin's body seemed to sink at the sight below them.

"It's nothing new," he pointed out, turning his back on it and returning to where he'd left the basket of clean laundry on the table.

"I know," Arthur acknowledged quietly. "I just didn't see it before."

Lord Siddel wasn't his favorite man, but Arthur didn't have a problem with him either. He was a bit more reluctant than some of the others to accept the changes that Arthur had made during his reign, and in one brave moment had expressed concern about Arthur's apparent relationship with a mere serving girl. He had also backed down immediately upon seeing Arthur's reaction; the whole conversation had probably lasted less than ninety seconds. In short, not one of Arthur's closest friends, but someone he could handle well enough.

He wondered what the man's servant had done to put the lord into such a rage. He was mostly just yelling, but at the beginning of the fight he had backhanded the young man, and he'd smacked him hard on the side of the head a minute later. Now he pushed the man towards the castle, sending him away to address whatever crisis had triggered his ire.

"Have I ever crossed the line?" Arthur asked as he watched the man walk away across the courtyard.

"What?" Merlin asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"I hit you sometimes. And throw things."

He heard the sound of the wardrobe door closing, and a moment later Merlin stood by his side again.

"Arthur," he said, and he could swear he heard something close to pity in his voice. "Look, I don't like being hit upside the head or having things fly at me. But the way Siddel just clocked that guy – there's a world of difference between that and what you do. What you do is obnoxious and unpleasant, but it doesn't _hurt_ me."

"Except for that one time," Arthur remembered quietly, and Merlin sighed.

"Except that one time. But you felt terrible about it, remember? You even gave me the rest of the day off. And your aim with goblets got far worse after that, didn't it?"

He heard the teasing note in Merlin's voice and allowed himself a slight smile. "I don't actually want to hurt you."

"I know that. Although seriously, please feel free to stop hitting me upside the head. It's _really_ irritating. And not very nice."

"Noted," Arthur said, deliberately refusing to agree, even though he doubted he'd ever be able to bring himself to do it again, even in jest.

Merlin snorted. "Prat," he muttered, but Arthur saw the smile before he returned to the wardrobe.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, stepping away from the window and watching his servant hang up the clothes.

"Yes?"

"Do the servants in the castle feel safe?"

Merlin paused for just a moment, a hesitation that Arthur wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching him carefully.

"As safe as they can feel when surrounded by nobility," he answered bluntly.

Not the answer Arthur had hoped for, but the one he'd expected. He left Merlin to his work, his own thoughts still bouncing around his head.

* * *

War was coming. There were resources to plan for, troops to organize, a (Merlin-approved) tax reform to pass. The next two weeks flew by in a state of chaos and preparations. Merlin slowly seemed more like himself, although he still had moments when he lapsed into silence, his eyes dark, or when he flinched if someone near him moved too suddenly.

Unfortunately, Arthur did not receive word that Lord Lyndon had met with an unfortunate accident on his way home. How disappointing.

But even in the flurry of preparations, his early-morning conversation with Merlin on the training field festered in the back of his mind, nearly always replaying itself at least once before he fell asleep each night.

_Keep your fucking sword._

He was going to war to protect Camelot. To protect the people of Camelot. But how could he protect them from their protectors?

He pushed his knights harder in training than he had before, but no one complained. They all understood the need. They knew what lingered on the horizon. Even so, it left even the best of them tired and in short tempers, Arthur included.

Maybe that's why things came to a head that morning.

Sir Rylan had worked hard. They'd been training for hand-to-hand fighting, no weapons, and it wasn't the knight's strong point. He'd given it his all, but Gwaine's experience with tavern brawls proved far more advantageous than Rylan's years of formal knight training, and the man had spent most of the training session on his back or facedown in the mud. Gwaine's taunts certainly didn't help matters.

So when his servant – a man whom Arthur was beginning to realize was nearly as clumsy as Merlin – once again tripped as they made their way off the grounds, dropping Rylan's cape in the mud, Rylan reacted more strongly than he might have otherwise. It really shouldn't have been a big deal, but Rylan delivered a backhand straight to the young man's face.

And damn it, the kid had just _tripped_. It happened.

"Sir Rylan," Arthur called, unable to keep the edge of anger out of his voice as he stormed across the field to the two men.

"Yes, my lord?" the knight asked, taking a few steps back towards the king.

"What was the purpose in that?" Arthur demanded, nodding towards the servant.

"In what, my lord?"

Arthur realized the man's confusion was genuine. And why wouldn't it be? How often had he struck his servant within sight of Arthur without the king even blinking?

But Arthur didn't care. He'd hardly slept the night before – or for several nights before that – and he was tired and frustrated, and he couldn't stop picturing a faceless figure slapping Gwen for a mistake, or seeing Merlin standing against the wall, unmoving when he should have been fighting back. And damn it, that was _not_ the kind of Camelot he wanted to rule.

"You hit your servant. Why?"

Rylan blinked in surprise. "Why?" he repeated. "He was careless, and now my cloak is dirty."

"A cloak can be cleaned easily enough," Arthur snapped, "and you can hardly fault him for slipping in the mud considering how many times you did the same." He regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth; embarrassing the man for his failures in training wouldn't do anything to protect the servant. If anything, it would just send him into an even fouler mood, which the servant would then have to deal with.

Arthur sighed, running a hand over his face as his temper cooled. "You are a knight, Sir Rylan. A protector of Camelot. As a knight, you have a duty to defend those weaker and more vulnerable than yourself. You have a duty to protect the people of Camelot – is that not what we all train for every day? To protect them?"

Rylan's cheeks blazed with embarrassment, but he nodded. "Of course, my lord."

"You are bound to serve this man every bit as much as he is bound to serve you. If we lose sight of that, Sir Rylan, we're not knights. We're not noble protectors of a kingdom we love. We're nothing more than bullies in red cloaks."

Rylan looked away, and Arthur could see the anger at his humiliation in his eyes. He shouldn't have made the comment about him slipping in the mud; it had only deafened the man's ears to Arthur's point. All he could do was hope that once his emotions cooled, he thought through Arthur's words and saw the truth in them.

Turning around, Arthur paused as he realized they had an audience. Most of the knights stood nearby, watching the interaction between the two men. Arthur cleared his throat and raised his voice.

"That goes for all of us."

He walked through the crowd toward the castle, taking note of the expressions on the various men's faces. Many looked proud, although a handful looked angry. He paid special attention to the ones that looked ashamed. Maybe their shame would change them.

* * *

When Arthur returned to his rooms that evening, they were pristine. Everything put away, everything organized. Merlin was just finishing pouring a bath as Arthur walked in.

"I didn't order a bath," Arthur observed suspiciously, and Merlin shrugged.

"You probably need one. It was a mess out there today."

That was true. Arthur had spent the entire day outside for various reasons, and he was covered in rain and mud. He had planned on ordering a bath; he just didn't expect Merlin to do it without being told.

"My dirty clothes basket is empty," he noticed.

"Because I washed your clothes."

"I didn't order you to wash my clothes. Or to dust and or polish, but everything looks…clean. Very clean."

"I am your manservant, Arthur," Merlin pointed out with a dry smile. "It's my job to keep your rooms clean, even if you don't order every little thing specifically."

" _I_ know that," Arthur acknowledged, still watching him warily. "I just didn't realize _you_ knew that. What do you want?"

Merlin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you obviously want something. You don't do extra work for no reason. Out with it, Merlin."

But Merlin just laughed a little bit and shook his head. "I don't want anything. Honest."

The whole thing felt weird, but there wasn't much Arthur could do about it except wait until Merlin revealed his endgame. He must want _something_. But as Merlin stood behind him unfastening his armor, his servant surprised him.

"So. Bullies in red cloaks?"

Arthur froze. "You heard about that?"

"I think everyone in Camelot has heard about it by this point," Merlin said, and Arthur heard a smile in his voice. "Sounds like it was quite the little speech."

Arthur sighed. "That's not how I should have done it. I didn't intend to humiliate Sir Rylan in front of an audience."

Merlin circled around to help with the vambraces, and Arthur saw the smile disappear.

"Last month, I helped Gaius reset that servant's dislocated shoulder, so forgive me if I can't drum up any pity for Rylan's wounded pride."

Arthur looked at him in surprise. "Dislocated shoulder?"

"Yeah. The kid wouldn't say how it happened, but given how Rylan always treats him, it doesn't take a genius to read between the lines."

"I see." Arthur had to admit, that _did_ make him feel less guilty. "Is that why you're such a diligent servant today?" he asked, changing the subject. "Because I scolded Rylan this morning?"

Merlin shrugged. "Consider it a thank you."

Arthur tried to fight a smile. His servant's approval shouldn't mean this much to him, but he knew approval from Merlin always had to be earned; the servant never gave it out of obligation or duty. And so whether it should matter to him or not, it did.

"I know this doesn't solve everything," he said, wanting to acknowledge the obvious. "I haven't quite figured out yet how to deal with the issue of allowing people to fight back when they're in danger. But I'm thinking about it. I'm trying. Honestly, Merlin, I am."

Merlin nodded. "I appreciate that."

The room lapsed into silence as Arthur sank into the glorious bath. Merlin had some magic touch that enabled him to draw hot baths in a way no other servant seemed to manage. Other baths were almost always lukewarm at best, but somehow Merlin always managed to get it so hot it was almost painful. And that heat thawed the chill from a day in the rain and eased the tension in his muscles. When he finally stepped out, he felt better than he had in days.

Merlin didn't break the silence until Arthur sat down to eat.

"I don't think I ever said thank you."

Arthur looked up in confusion, but Merlin didn't look at him. He seemed inexplicably focused on pouring wine into a goblet, a task that did not require nearly the amount of attention he gave it.

"That day, in the hallway. You interrupted. You got me away from him, and you kept me safe until he was gone. And I heard what happened after with Percival. Thank you."

Arthur shook his head. "If you'd felt you could defend yourself, you wouldn't have needed—"

"Shut up and accept my gratitude," Merlin interrupted irritably.

It felt wrong to be thanked when he was part of the cause of the problem, but Arthur couldn't help but smile at Merlin's bossiness.

* * *

In the end, Arthur didn't implement a grand plan. There was no clever strategy, no sneaky tactics.

There was just an opportunity, and he took it.

It was a skirmish between two lords. They had an ongoing disagreement about a boundary line between their properties, and over time petty squabbles had escalated into heated confrontations, until finally, one of them attacked the other.

Both were badly injured, and only the arrival of one of the men's brothers had kept the fight from ending in death. And so they had come before the king with their accusations, each one claiming the other was at fault, both insisting on compensation for damages.

Each man insisted the other had attacked first. Each insisted he had only acted in self-defense.

Arthur listened to the men argue and fight, interrupting more than once to demand they behave civilly or he would have them both thrown in the dungeons. And then one of the men, as he launched into yet another tirade, made a comment that caught Arthur's ear.

"And you can just ask Thurlow, he was standing right there and saw it all! He'll tell you, he drew his sword and came at me while I was still unarmed!"

Arthur sat up straighter. "Who is Thurlow?"

The other man scoffed. "Just a farmer who works the land near the border," he said, and in his dismissiveness, Arthur heard everything he didn't say. _He's just a commoner. His word counts for nothing._

He spoke before the idea was fully formed.

"Right now, we have a matter of one man's word against another's. I would hear what this Thurlow has to say," Arthur stated, trying to keep his face impassive as his mind flew.

He wanted someone to challenge him. He _needed_ someone to challenge him.

But no one did. The logic of it was just too obvious.

In the back of the room, he saw realization dawn on Merlin's face, and he sent up a quick prayer of gratitude that the man knew him so well and wasn't half the idiot Arthur claimed him to be. The servant crept over to Leon and whispered in his ear, earning a baffled look from the knight. Merlin nodded insistently, and Leon redirected the confused look to Arthur, who gave him a subtle nod.

"Sire," Leon spoke up awkwardly. "This Thurlow is a commoner. You mean to let him testify regarding the actions of nobles?"

"Of course," Arthur said with false surprise. "After all, he's the only witness." He scanned the room, but no one else protested. In fact, those who concerned him most looked like they weren't even paying attention.

All the better.

"Send someone to fetch him," he ordered.

And just like that, a commoner testified against a lord in a court of law.

Thurlow's story didn't match entirely with either lord's version of the tale, but made far more sense. In his telling, neither man was fully innocent. And when Arthur ruled based on the man's story, an eyebrow or two went up, but no one objected.

He had done it.

He had done it, and no one – except maybe Merlin – even knew.

* * *

The council didn't meet for another three days, and Arthur thought he might go mad from impatience as he waited. As irrational as it was, he felt afraid somehow this opportunity would fall through his fingers if he didn't act on it quickly enough. He wanted it done, finalized, written in ink before someone figured it out and stood against it.

He tried to reassure himself that three days was not that long.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked with concern as he helped him prepare for the day. "I've never seen you fidget like this except before battles."

"I'm fine," Arthur said shortly, then forced himself to smile to take the sting out of the words. Merlin's raised eyebrows told him it hadn't come across quite as naturally as he'd hoped. "It's just a council meeting, Merlin. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried about the council meeting, which I'm sure will have fascinating discussions about taxes and conscription. I _am_ worried you seem out of sorts. Do you want me to go get a potion from Gaius to help with nerves?"

Arthur scowled. "My _nerves_ are fine. _I'm_ fine. It's just a council meeting."

"So you said," Merlin muttered under his breath, but he dropped the subject

Arthur set it as the third item out of five on the agenda. That would put it right in the thick of things, once people were already tired and bored, but before they had the light at the end of the tunnel to give them hope that the thing was almost over.

They talked about taxes. They talked about castle security. And then, before they could move on to conscription, Arthur brought it up.

"After the trial earlier this week, I'd like to make an amendment to one of the regulations regarding legal proceedings. Given the benefit we saw in the farmer's testimony, I'd like to formally recognize that in the future, the legal testimony of commoners will carry equal weight as the legal testimony of nobility."

He kept his voice casual, making it sound as off-hand as he could. Even so, he saw surprise and alarm in a number of eyes.

" _Equal_ weight?" Lord Siddel sputtered. "You can't be serious!"

Arthur tried to look surprised at the protest. "Why not? They have eyes and brains just like anyone else."

"Sire," Siddel protested with a forced smile, "I hardly think we can consider commoners _credible_ sources of information."

Arthur nodded as though the lord had made a valid point. "Of course, if their character is questionable, that must be taken into consideration when they provide testimony, just as the character of a lord must be taken into consideration. But I see no reason to discount their testimony. And none of you protested the testimony offered earlier this week, by which I punished a lord. Even when Sir Leon questioned it, you let it pass."

He could see a few of them frowning, trying to remember the case. Others looked grim, clearly remembering and recognizing Arthur's point, whether they agreed or not.

"But _peasants_ —" another lord started, and Arthur cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

"Peasants are also people of Camelot," he stated firmly. "To be clear, this item is not up for debate. I'm merely formalizing something we've already seen in practice, and I wanted you to be aware. Now, as for the matter of conscription…"

And while there were scowls and grumbles, there were also quiet smiles, and eyebrows raised in surprise but not in disapproval. He wasn't standing alone on this side of the line.

The fight wasn't over. He knew that. But in the eyes of the law, commoners now had a voice. It was a step forward.

* * *

"Herb-crusted capon?" Arthur asked, baffled, as Merlin set the plate before him.

"Looks that way," Merlin acknowledged cheerfully.

"How on earth did you pull that off?" Arthur's mouth watered just looking at the dish. "I've never seen this served for anything but a feast!"

Merlin shrugged. "I pulled some strings."

"The cook doesn't even like you!" Arthur argued before taking a bite.

Damn, it tasted good.

"No, she doesn't," Merlin agreed with a cheeky grin. "But she's rather fond of you today."

That made Arthur pause. "She is?"

Merlin laughed. "The lords might not have realized what happened this week, Arthur, but believe me – every servant in that room was talking the moment they were out the door. Everyone is still wondering what it really means, but everyone knows it's good."

Arthur took another bite and half-wished Merlin would shut up and let him enjoy his meal. But unfortunately, he'd piqued Arthur's curiosity.

"What do you mean, they're wondering what it really means?"

Merlin stared into space for a moment before answering slowly. "I have a pretty good idea what was behind this, just like I have a pretty good idea what was behind your lecture to Rylan and the knights."

For a moment, Arthur tried to look like he didn't know what Merlin was talking about, then shrugged and gave it up. "You made valid points, even if I didn't like them."

"Did you intend this change in law to mean that commoners can defend themselves against nobles?"

Arthur's appetite abruptly disappeared, and he set his fork down on his plate.

"It won't be that simple. If a noble slaps their servant, that's still not a _crime_. A servant can't just slap them back. But what I said to Rylan…I meant it. And I spoke with the steward about informing me when there are violent incidents so I can speak with the individual personally."

"You _what_?" Merlin demanded.

"I spoke with the steward," he repeated. "I want everyone who comes to Camelot to know they'll be expected to treat my servants with respect while they're here. It will take some time to establish that message, but I think it can be done."

Merlin laughed under his breath and shook his head before pouring Arthur a goblet of wine.

"You may be a prat and an ass, Arthur, but you're a damn good king."

Arthur puzzled over that for a moment. "Thank you. I think."

"So what does this law do, exactly?" Merlin asked, going back to the original question.

"It would allow someone to defend themselves if they were actually in danger." _Like you were_. Arthur paused to push that thought away before he could continue. "If they were being attacked and had to protect themselves, they could do so. And they could testify against their attacker, and their word would matter."

Merlin nodded, but Arthur looked up when he didn't say anything. He found Merlin staring at the table with a tight face and wet eyes. He watched as his servant blinked rapidly until the wetness disappeared.

"I know I've said it before, but I mean it," he said abruptly. "I'm happy to be your servant until the day I die."

Arthur couldn't quite keep the proud smile off his face, although he tried. "I owe you a debt, you know," he said, and Merlin frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't spoken up. If you hadn't been honest with me about an injustice that I didn't see." Arthur toasted his goblet towards him. "Your courage provided protection for my people."

Merlin let out a small laugh. "I'm afraid my motivations weren't entirely selfless and noble," he admitted, and Arthur shrugged.

"I know. But you were brave enough to be honest with me, and that counts for a lot." Arthur set his goblet down and turned his attention to Merlin. "Will you give me your word, Merlin, that you'll always be honest with me?"

Merlin went still, his face impassive as he watched Arthur. "What?"

"If you ever see something like this again – if you see an injustice against people in Camelot, if you see _my_ people suffering, and I don't even realize it – will you tell me? Please?"

Merlin turned strangely pale. Arthur could literally see the color of his cheek change in the light of the candles.

"You want me to swear to tell you if I see injustices in Camelot?" he repeated. "Injustices against certain people, that you might not even realize exist?" And to Arthur's shock, Merlin's voice trembled just a bit.

"Yes," he confirmed, watching his servant closely. He hadn't thought this would be a big ask of Merlin; the man was already more honest with him than anyone else. If anything, he'd thought Merlin would get some amusement at being given permission to call Arthur out in the future.

But Merlin's face held no amusement. It held trepidation and hope and fear, and Arthur had no idea why.

But after a minute passed in silence, Merlin nodded. "I give you my word," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "I swear I will tell you the truth of injustices in Camelot."

Then, inexplicably, he bowed. "Excuse me," he mumbled, and he fled from the room.

* * *

Merlin didn't show up to clear the dinner dishes, which disappointed Arthur – he'd kept some of the herb-crusted capon for him. Nor did he show up to help Arthur prepare for bed, or send a replacement servant in his stead.

It was odd, but perhaps not _that_ odd, he reasoned with himself, trying to nudge aside the concern prickling him. Merlin had had a difficult few weeks, and this wasn't the first time he'd slipped away suddenly to go be alone for a bit. Perhaps the events of the week had simply overwhelmed him.

Arthur waited up for a bit in case he was merely running late, but eventually he prepared himself for bed and blew out the candles.

He was nearly asleep when a knock sounded at the door. Annoyed, he fumbled his way across the room, relighting a candle on the way. Who on earth would come to his chambers this time of night? Had some sort of emergency arisen? He hadn't heard the warning bells…

To his surprise, he found Merlin outside the door. Merlin, who had never knocked before entering in his life, stood pale and shaking with a terrified look on his face.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.

Arthur's first thought was something terrible had happened. His second thought was Merlin had decided he wanted to talk about what had happened with Lord Lyndon, and he didn't know whether to be relieved at that idea or just plain scared.

"Of course," he agreed, ushering him into the room. "What's going on? Did something happen? Is Gaius okay? Gwen?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I just…" he paused, then rubbed a hand over his eyes.

Was he _crying_? Arthur half wondered if he was drunk, but he hadn't carried the scent of alcohol when he'd entered the room.

Merlin dropped his hand, then took a shuddering breath.

"I made you a promise earlier tonight. I came to keep that promise."


End file.
